


In a Fleeting Moment of Thought

by HolmesAndNotQuiteWatson



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Confession, Confessions of love, Cute, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:45:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1705319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesAndNotQuiteWatson/pseuds/HolmesAndNotQuiteWatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's amazing how one bullet can change everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In a Fleeting Moment of Thought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anya99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anya99/gifts), [NotQuiteWatson](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=NotQuiteWatson).



There were many things that, contrary to popular belief, Sherlock Holmes didn’t understand. Things like stars and soap operas and pub-crawls. Things like repetition and sport. Things like John Watson.

\--

“Fancy a pint?” 

“... No.”  
\--

Sometimes. Not often. But sometimes John is just- just different. So conflicting to what Sherlock expects. And he changes Sherlock. Subtly. John’s not a hero. Heroes don’t exist, but if they did, John would be one of them.

\--

“Try to remember there’s a woman who might die out there.”

“What for?”

“So we can save her.”

\--

Jumpers. Jam. Tea at six every day. Routines. John is settled into his routine, his life. He navigates the obstacles sharing a flat with Sherlock bloody Holmes throws in his path. Unchangeable. 

\--  
“Time for dinner?”

“Yeah.”

\--  
How he can be so free with his affections, Sherlock doesn’t know either. Affection, kindness, so easily given. To his infernal girlfriends. To Mrs. Hudson, to Mycroft, even. To Sherlock.

\--

“Here.”

“Tea?”

“Thought you might want some.”

\--  
What about the cases? One word from Sherlock and John does change. He’s a doctor. He cares. But he’s a soldier. Moral principles matter to him. Didn’t stop him shooting that cabbie for Sherlock within 48 hours of having met him.

\--

“Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.”

_But without it, would I still be here?_

What he thinks he really means is _without John._

\--  
Sherlock clutches his shoulder, trying to hide his pain. John hasn’t spoken yet. Barely a word since Sherlock leapt in the path of a bullet for him. Only shouted “Sherlock” as the gun fired and a muttered “Stay with me.” as the ambulance arrived. They’ll match now, with their identical wounds. 

\--  
The next time John speaks is at the hospital. They’re alone in the sterile white of Sherlock’s room. They hadn’t been talking. Only thinking. 

“Why did you do that?” John asks abruptly, dragging his chair a little closer to Sherlock. “He wasn’t going to hit me. That bullet fired a mile wide.”

Sherlock smiles. It’s true. “You’re my best friend.” He says honestly, though it knots something in his gut to say so. “And-“

“Sherlock.” John says. “It’s okay. I love you too.”

Sherlock shifts his hand out from under the covers and John takes it, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. He leans forward and plants a soft kiss on Sherlock’s forehead. 

“And I love you.” Sherlock breathes.

\--

There were many things that, contrary to popular belief, Sherlock Holmes didn’t understand. Things like stars and soap operas and pub-crawls. Things like repetition and sport. Things like John Watson.

But he’s got all the time in the world to figure him out.


End file.
